Black Eyes and Lullabies
by suziefknQ
Summary: Sookie and Eric meet on the first day back to LeClerc University after summer vacation. The chemistry is there, but is Eric really the gentleman he portrays? A/H, OOC, Rated "M" for later chapters.
1. Freight Trains and Gentlemen

Waking up the first day of a new semester is nearly impossible. The sheer anxiety of being a step closer to graduation and finally being set free to begin sculpting the essence of my entire life is enough to catapult me into a depression. At the same time, I feel anticipation, of course, I am excited to be a graduate, and I do feel a sense of accomplishment from making the Deans List my freshman year. I just can't get over the sinking suspicion that I am not heading in the right direction. Haven't I always dreamt of being a journalist? Having the power over someone to gently suck out information and leave them wondering, _"How the hell did she get me to voice my deepets, darkest secrets?" _I do. It's what I want. I just have to stop second guessing myself. Realizing it's just first day jitters, I lightly smack my own cheek in a 'get up and get over it' gesture, and head wearily to the showers in my dorm.

"Sookie, hey! Sookie, slow down girl…" My good friend Amelia calls, scooting awkwardly in her wolf slippers across the cold linoleum of our dormitory hallway.

"Amelia, don't you dare touch me, I haven't had coffee yet and I cannot promise I won't smack you if you electrocute me right now with your psycho static hand!" I laughed but still turned around with my hands up in the international gesture for 'back the fuck off'.

"We can get coffee on the way to class," she assures me, "Hey what are you wearing first day back? I got the greatest dress on sale at Macy's! How was the trip home? Did you tell Jason 'helloo' for me?" She wags her eyebrows and licks her lips. Jason, my older, better looking, but far less intellectual brother, is somewhat of an obsession to my best girl friend. I will never understand how someone of Amelia's caliber could entertain such notions that a man who cracks into concrete for a living would be a good mate.

I finally approach the door to the communal bathroom, and turn to Amelia, exasperated, yet gentle. Sometimes I feel like I am humoring a middle schooler with a first crush.

"Amelia, darling, BFF, sister from another mister," I begin teasingly as she looks at me with her best pleading face, "Jason says hello as well, I do not care what I wear on my first day of school anymore as I am here to learn and complete a degree, not impress my peers with fashion forwardness or cleavage. My trip was daunting, yet it did feel good to be home, and finally, why the hell are you following me to the showers?"

She isn't completely satisfied with my rant, but it does for now apparently because she turns around to shuffle back the way she came.

"God, you are such a bitch pre-shower and caffeine! I'll talk to you after you get ready; meet me at Beans in an hour, okay?" She's practically shouting the last part as the distance grows. I turn back to the bathroom door and sigh. Finally, I begin my day.

Meeting up at Beans, the little café smack dab in the middle of campus is a ritual of sorts for Amelia and I. Often times her brother, Sam, will meet with us as well. Sam has a bit of a thing for me, but he really feels like a brother, so I have always pushed his gentle advances away before he has a chance to even try. This morning is no exception.

"Hey gorgeous face! Damn Sookie, you don't even try that hard and yet, as always, you astound me with your beauty." Sam says in an attempt to sweep me off my feet, I'm sure.

"Thanks buddy, you look pretty dapper yourself." He did look pretty good, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a sweater vest. "You finally did something about that grunge look that should have been left behind in the ninth grade, I am proud of ya' dude," The more I insult him the more he swoons. Figures.

"Aw Sook, I knew you'd finally realize how attracted you are to me, I…"

"Shove it brother, drink your damned coffee and leave Sookie alone, she's in a bitch-from-hell mood today, and I don't need you to fuel her flames," Amelia chimes in before things get awkward. What are friends for? Wait, did she just call me a bitch from hell? I'll let it slide since she came to my rescue.

"Okay guys, let's just drink our coffee and discuss our schedules. I need to feel like we're accomplishing something; it'll get me in the mood to learn. I have English 102 at 9:30 and Political Science with Professor Lambert at 11:30. Amelia, do you have a break at around 1? We can meet for lunch?"

"Well," she begins, "I have Art 120 at 11:30, but I also have a Math class across campus right after—we can meet up and you can walk me there since it's on or way to the dorm?"

"Okay, deal," I confirm. I take the last sip of my extremely strong coffee and stand up to collect my bags. "I have to move it ya'll, I need to stop at the Student Center before class to make a tuition payment."

I say my goodbyes, and head off across the lawn. LeClerc University is a sprawling campus ripe with lush sod blanketing the flat land. Among that, like a curvy maze in an aerial perspective, lie the cobblestone walkways reminiscent of the historical south. The sweet scent of honeysuckle and magnolia permeates the magnificent expanse of the college grounds. Walking to and from class is my favorite part of the day, and today, is no exception. It's good to be back.

The Student Center was bustling—heavy with pungent perfumes, and heady with first day nerves and sweat. I make it ever so swiftly to the line at the payment counter. In my peripheral, I spot a short kid, with a giant back pack heading toward me. He had the brightest red hair I have ever seen and t-shirt to match. I look directly ahead to avoid him and take a step up as the line moves forward. That step happened to send me crashing to the ground.

Waking up—what must have been only a minute later—I feel as though a ton of bricks just fell off the roof and landed square on my jaw. My purse, lying about a foot in front of me had been spilled of all its contents. I see a lonely lip gloss and a matchbook from a bar I liked in Shreveport. I notice my tiny red cell phone and a squashed bottle of Victoria Secret hand lotion. Then, I noticed the pink contents of said lotion _everywhere_.

"Hey, are you okay? Stupid kid just barreled right over you! I started to catch the little bastard but no one was coming to your aid so… I chose you,"

Hovering above me was a halo cast from the high ceiling windows, shining around the most beautiful face I have ever seen. And an accent, ever it be so slight, yet, definitely an accent. His hand comes down to pull me to my feet and it swallows mine as it sweeps me up and then his other hand rests under my arm to hold me steady.

"Thank you, "I manage to choke. He bends over and in a swift maneuver retrieves the contents of my purse, wiping the spilt lotion on his jeans--Oh lord--and places them inside the hand bag. Handing it back to me, he has look of concern splayed across his face.

"Your jaw is swelling; we should get you to the clinic. Can you walk?" He reaches an arm around my shoulders and stands up straight. Jesus Christ Shepard of Judea this man is a Nordic God! He's at least 6'4 with shoulder length blonde hair pulled back at the nape of his long, gorgeous neck; his eyes are the color of a sapphire as it catches a gleam of light. Mesmerized, I nod my head and confirm that—yes—I can walk, and the clinic—oh no! I cannot miss class.

"I can walk," I gulped, not quite meeting his eyes, "but I'm fine, really, just a bit dazed," _understatement of the year. _"Have to get to class, first day an' all you know. I'll put ice on it soon, I will." _Rambling like an idiot. Articulate._

"Well at least let me walk you there, I don't have a class until later, where do you need to go?" _His voice, like bells in a choir. Jesus Sookie, swoon much?_

Shaking my head to will away my idiocy, I meet his eyes and say," North campus, English department. Thank you, really. I am alright though, I've taken meaner punches," he smirks at my response and slightly lifts an eyebrow.

"Well _that_ is a story I'll have to hear. Let's go before another freak accident occurs before we leave the building. I have a feeling you are trouble." Now he's smiling broadly and I smile back, secretly pleased that this guy has his arm around me.

"I'm Sookie, bye the way. Pleased to meet you," always the epitome of hospitable, I am.

He reaches his free hand around and stops briefly to lift my hand to his mouth. He places a gentle kiss on my knuckle and breathes, "Eric, and the pleasures all mine." His eyes, piercing into mine, almost hit me harder than the freight train of a freshman who only minutes ago laid me flat on my ass.

Well, hell. It's good to be back.


	2. Campus Escort

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who review and add story to alerts! *blushes*. _

_*CH owns all characters; I just use them to satisfy my fantasies ;)_

EPOV

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The day has been quite eventful thus far and it's just about 9:00. Being in a fast track Masters Program means I have few actual classes, and spend most of my time researching and working on the outline for my dissertation. I also work part time in the Student Center helping first years with orientation, financial aid applications and schedule questions. Essentially, I am a walking campus map and information center for newbies and freshman. The first day back is usually mayhem in here, and today proves no different. My mind is reeling with assorted questions, and my head is pounding from the beginning of a mild case of claustrophobia. 1 more hour, I'll make it. I have to remind myself to check on Pam after my shift here is done, I have some good news for her.

My sister, Pam is actually a librarian at LeClerc University. She graduated 4 years ago and got the job immediately—something about the previous librarian getting caught with a romance novel and a hand down her skirt in the supply closet. Needless to say, they hired Pam because she spent all her time volunteering there as a student anyway. My sister should have 'I Heart the Dewey Decimal System' tattooed on her forehead. It's really the perfect job for her. She didn't want to have to leave Savannah, she fell in love with the humidity and Spanish moss her second year as a student. I, on the other hand, will be leaving for New York as soon as I have the degree in hand.

Handing out campus maps and questionnaires is a mundane task, and quite low paying, but it doesn't pay the bills anyway. I tend bar at The Nest on weekends. It's a popular joint for locals and tourists alike and nestled right on the end of River Street. It's a prime location with a balcony that overlooks the Savannah River, where you can watch the ships dock, and people with fanny packs walk along the cobblestone street eating gourmet popcorn and snapping pictures of historical landmarks.

Bartending is something I'm a natural at. I have a level of charisma that draws people (women mostly), and I know how to turn the charm on full throttle when I see something I want. I wouldn't call my self a womanizer—no—more like an opportunist. Any red blooded male in his early twenties would be glad to be gifted with physical attributes as I am. Coming from a pure blooded line of Scandinavian ancestry gives me the whole tall, blonde and blue eyes thing, however, my extremely tall frame used to work against me. I was a lanky kid with a cowlick until high school came along. My hair grew out and I started running and boxing to build muscle. The rest, as they say, is history. Now, I simply find my self fortunate to have—should I say it?—the pick of the litter when it comes to ladies. It doesn't hurt that I am also a poetry major, and I have at least 200 saved in the old memory bank for certain romantic opportunities.

I have never been in love, and I don't intend to ever fall. I am a romantic only for image sake. I have never met a girl who could force me into a weakness so grand that I forget who is numero uno. Me. I plan on traveling the world, meeting beautiful and exotic women and writing—and a girl can only get in my way. Shit, I don't even really have any guy friends for fucks sake. Guys can be jealous creatures, and most tend to worry about their girlfriends around me, so I keep a safe distance from relationships of any kind. I have been absorbed in school for four years, but the bar job keeps me charming. It keeps me sane.

I am like a zombie, passing out pamphlets and pausing only to sip my coffee, which is getting cold fast, when I see a freshman with what looks to be a bag that you'd find in a military surplus store slung across his back. The Student Center is so crowded that the heavy looking back pack keeps nudging people as he walks, like that cartoon dragon who couldn't get control of his tail. He has a determined look on his pimply face and is storming through the room like a man on a mission. I call out for him to slow down, but he doesn't hear me and the next thing I know he's careening into some poor, blonde in line at the tuition area. Shit, that little fucker bulldozed right into her, knocking her over, and he has the fucking audacity to start running away? I throw down my coffee and take 4 long strides toward the bastard before I notice that no one is helping the girl. I backtrack a few steps and bend over to the fallen blonde.

"Hey, are you okay? Stupid kid just barreled right over you! I started to catch the little bastard but no one was coming to your aid so… I chose you," _Nice, Eric. I chose _you_? _

The girl stares dazedly up at me and blinks a few times as if her vision is adjusting. I hope she doesn't have a concussion. She stutters a thanks and I realize that her purse has dumped all over the floor, so I start gather the lotiony contents, wiping her cell phone on my jeans to clean it off before putting it gingerly back in the patchwork bag. Smells good, though—I read the label on the bottle of lotion as I am wiping it down—Strawberries and Champagne. Mmmm, that's nice. Bending over the help the distressed damsel and owner of such lotion, I notice her jaw is beginning to swell. Might even be broken, I think to myself, and smoothly pull her to her feet.

"Your jaw is swelling; we should get you to the clinic. Can you walk?" I stand erect and put my arm around her shoulders as she wobbles slightly and nods. Damn, she's actually pretty hot. She has wavy golden hair that shines around her slightly tan complexion, with eyes the color of denim and long eyelashes free of mascara. She's wearing low hip hugger jeans with holes in the knees and a Radiohead t-shirt which forms nicely to her torso, leaving much to the imagination, yet still showing off a rockin' little body.

"I can walk," she says in a low uneven voice, "but I'm fine, really, just a bit dazed, have to get to class, first day an' all you know. I'll put ice on it soon, I will." God, that accent is adorable. I live in the south, and come across hundreds of southern belles, but that accent coming from her perfect little mouth sets me on fire.

I offer to walk her to class, since she insists on bypassing the clinic, and she nervously accepts. Her next class is in the English building, which is right by the library, so it will work out well. I can see Pam on my way back. She tells me she's taken "meaner punches" than the hit she just experienced, and I let her know I'd love to hear that story. A nice opening for a conversation on the way to North Campus, I pat myself on the back mentally and then she makes her introduction.

"I'm Sookie, bye the way. Pleased to meet you," I paused, minutely aware that she's leaning her head on my shoulder. God, her hair smells like apples and sunshine. I take her hand and kiss it gently, looking into those denim eyes.

"Eric, and the pleasures all mine." I whisper against her knuckle, and I swear to everything holy, the girl almost fell flat on her cute little ass again. Yes, this is what I call a successful rescue.

We walk slowly over to Felicia, my boss and I let her know that I am leaving twenty minutes early to walk the poor girl to the clinic—little white lies never hurt anyone—she thanks me for being such a gentlemen and winks as she tells me to go on and go. She wants me too, I'm sure. Considering her husband is one of my most revered professors, however, she'll have to get over her fantasy of bedding someone 20 years her junior fairly quick.

Sookie is embarrassed. I can tell by the blush that has wrapped around her neck and cheeks. Her jaw will bruise, and probably her left cheek bone as well, but she repeats that she feels alright. Walking her the distance to her class, I notice her mood start to shift from humiliated, to peaceful. She inhales a few times and smiles.

"I love the way the campus smells, honeysuckle and coffee and even a touch of unreleased rain," she seems a bit nostalgic as she says this, "Louisiana smelled similar, but here, with the ocean so close, it's all a bit fresher, you know?" Hmm, Louisiana. I did see a matchbook from Shreveport as I was putting her spilled purse to rights.

"Where are you from in Louisiana, Sookie, and what brought you here for college?" I am truly curious about her. Sincerity doesn't usually count as of one my many qualities. I stash that in my 'wonder why file' under S.

"This school offers a top notch Journalism program, and that's my major, soo… plus I wanted to get out of Bon Temps—that's my home town—and Shreveport wasn't far way enough. I wanted to stay close to my southern roots, though, and Savannah seemed like a perfect change of scenery."

"Have you been down to the beach here yet? Tybee Island is only 20 minutes away, and there are some pretty nice parts." I hope she hasn't been yet, I can segue right into a date proprosal…

"Nope, not yet, I went back home for summer break, and I am only a sophomore. I haven't really been able to do much other than sleep and look for a job since I've been back." She says, as we stop in front of the door to the English wing.

"Well, there's going to be a party at the beach next Saturday, a friend of my sisters has a house a stone's throw from the high tide line, and I'd love to show you around Tybee," How can she refuse, with that tan, I am sure the beach is a win-win for her, and I am dying to see her in a bikini.

"Yah, okay. That sounds fun, let me give you my number and you can call me with directions," she says as she reaches into my front pocket for my cell phone. What. The. Fuck. My god, is she asking to end up on her back a second time today against her will? She half smiles nervously as I jump at the entrance of her tiny hand in my pocket. Pulling out the cell phone I still don't know how she knew was in there, she flips it open and programs her number, flips in shut, and starts walking backward to the door. About 6 feet away from me now, she tosses the phone deftly into my waiting hand and spins around to enter the hall. My jaw left hanging open, I can only smile and say to myself; _well Northman, looks like you may have to make some time for extra curricular activities. _I shake the glaze from my expression and head over to see Pam. It's not everyday your little brother announces he's going to be published in _The New Yorker._

_A/N I hope you liked the Eric POV. This is my first attempt at fanfic guys, so every single critique is wanted and welcomed. I will try to update at least twice a week with school and RL permitting, so stay tuned in!_


	3. Melting Ice

_A/N Again, thanks to all who have taken interest in the story, hope I don't disappoint. Back to a SPOV, but there will be plenty more Eric coming up._

_CH owns all characters, I have just transplanted them to make college seem more bearable ;)_

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My lord, did I actually just pull a cell phone out of that mans pocket? When did I get so bold? And smooth? I feel like a completely different person. Something about him made me confident enough to take the reins, but I will not complain. No ma'am or sir, Sookie Stackhouse is officially a femme fatale.

A femme fatale with a swollen face. Shit.

I head to class with my bruising head in a cloud. Beach party on Saturday.

With Eric the Nordic God.

I actually feel giddy, despite my growing headache.

Class is extra boring today. Of course we just go over the semester syllabus, make introductions, and such, and discuss our main research paper due at the end of semester. English is my best subject, and researching is fun for me, so this class will be an easy 'A'. If I carry a 3.5 GPA this semester, I can apply for a scholarship—which, by the way—I need desperately. Tuition isn't cheap, and while I do have financial aid, it only covers about half of my college expenses. I remind myself to walk River Street later and put in some applications. There are many restaurants down by the river, and waiting tables is a good college job. Daily tips and flexible hours. I'll have to go back and change after classes end and put on something more appropriate for a possible interview. I do need to put ice on my face, and hopefully no bruises pop up soon. Class is dismissed as I am working out my inner dialogue and I remember Amelia wants to meet up so I can walk her to the math building, which is where my Poli Sci class is. I gather my things leisurely and head out to the double doors in a herd of carefully dressed students. Looking at the flock of sundresses and cute short sets, I secretly wish I had chosen a different outfit. _Fuck it, my rocker chic get up didn't stop Eric from showing interest. _Ah Eric. I wish we'd had more time to talk.

The smell of unreleased precipitation hits my nostrils as soon as I exit the building. I look up to see a sky filling with ominous clouds and know rain is within minutes of falling. God, I love the way campus smells after a good downpour. Maybe after my next class I'll get to feel it coming down, screw umbrellas, there's nothing like a little natural cool off. I smile from the thought as I walk the courtyard, looking up at the sky instead of directly ahead of me. Big. Fucking. Mistake.

"Ahhh," I yelp as my foot catches on a wobbly cobblestone. I lose my balance and know that I am going to fall, so I curve my body to take the weight on my shoulder instead of my already damaged face. Job well done. "Ouch… shit!" I exclaim as the searing pain in my arm and shoulder starts up. I sit up and stare at the ground, making sure I have all my things when suddenly a hand comes down in front me. De'ja vu. I look up and Eric is bent and waiting for me to accept the offer. He gives me a smirk that surely is trying not to break into a hysterical fit of laughter. I sit there staring at him, absolutely horrified, but reach up to take his hand anyway. Guess this cancels out my smooth points rather abruptly.

"So, I take it you make a job out of being a damsel in distress. Oh don't get me wrong, I enjoy playing hero, but I may have to adjust my hectic schedule to be around every time you land," he pulls me up and turns me around to survey the damage. Pulling down the collar of my t-shirt, he traces lazy circles on my sore skin.

"You'll live, Stackhouse, but I really suggest you at least let me get you some ice. I may even be able to procure a seeing eye dog to make sure you are still in one piece by your second day of class," this time, he does laugh and his whole face lights up with satisfaction.

"Ha ha. Funny guy. Thanks ever so much," my tone is indignant but I can't help but smile nonetheless. "I am actually supposed to meet my friend Amelia and walk her to class. She should really be here any minute, I…" he puts a finger to my lips to shush me and hooks his arm in mine as he reaches behind me with the free hand to take my backpack for me in one swift movement.

"Amelia will understand when you tell her what a beautiful disaster you have been today. She will understand when you tell her a charming, handsome, and witty man had to sweep you off your clumsy feet for a second time in 3 hours, and she will certainly understand that you have wounds that need tending to." He winks and moves us forward. My heart beats a bit more feverishly as I register that he called me beautiful, even if the word 'disaster' immediately followed.

We walked silently at first, except for the occasional snicker and shake of the head from Eric, who must think I am a walking liability to LeClerc University.

"So, you mentioned earlier that you can take a punch. Should I assume that has something to do with the many falls you take on a day-to-day basis? Or is there more to it than a case of being gracefully challenged?" He removes his arm from mine, and reaches down to grab my hand. He intertwines his fingers with mine and gives me a gentle squeeze. "Care to explain?"

Oh great, how will he react to this. I decide to just tell him, and if he laughs—which I can almost count on—then so be it. "Well, this may seem hard to believe because of my recent bouts of klutziness, but in high school my brother taught me how to fight, you know self defense techniques: a bit of boxing, some mixed martial arts, kickboxing, and even some wrestling moves. Well, I kind of really enjoyed it, and it was a good work out, so I joined an all girls ultimate fighting club," I risked a glance up at his expression; he seemed impressed and a bit skeptical.

"You mean, like Fight Club for chicks?" He asked, clearly interested.

"Yeah, I guess you can call it that. It's a great way to let out aggression, or stress, and I learned a lot about self control and even more about the thrill of a good fight. It's definitely a cheap high." He puts the arm that was holding my hand around my shoulders, and crosses his left hand in front of his torso to take hold of the hand that was recently released. Good God, he is holding me close. Not close enough I decide. I lean my head on his bicep and he gives me a squeeze.

"You know, I box. I'm probably not nearly as hardcore as you, though, so let me know if I ever make it on your shit list so I can flee the country." His smile broadens and his blue eyes twinkle as he peeks down at me.

"Maybe we can hit the ring sometimes, we can show each other some moves. I have a deadly left hook," He raises an eyebrow and I realize he could have taken that statement a number of ways. Sure enough, he catches the double meaning.

"Sookie, I would love for you to show some of your signature moves, and I _cannot wait_ to show you mine" he winks again and I nearly swoon. A heat begins to stir in my belly and the tell tale signs of lust burn within me. Who is this guy and how do I control my self around him? I have always been so indifferent—always been one of the guys myself—but I'm starting to feel all girly and giggly around him. Starting to feel beautiful and tiny next to his tall, lean, yet muscular frame. I suddenly want to wear a ribbon in my hair and high heels on my feet, and…

"I really dig your shirt by the way. I am a huge fan of Radiohead. They came out when I was a high school freshman in Sweden. They played at a hole in the wall pub and my sister dragged me to see them. It was the week before she moved here, actually, to begin school at LeClerc. Anyway, I bought the album at the show, and they have been one of my favorite bands since." He says excitably, with a bit more accent than usual.

No way, he's perfect. Too good to be true even. _Oh swoon. _

We walk for along time, it seems, but I don't really pay attention to the direction we're heading, but soon I realize we are at a student parking lot.

"Where are we going, I have Poli Sci in 10 minutes?" I ask, hoping he is just going to his car to pull out a first aid kit or something.

"You can e-mail your professor from my laptop when we get to my apartment. It's just syllabus day anyway, and I won't let you go another second without some ice, antiseptic and bandages,"

'But I can just stop by the clinic, Eric, you really shouldn't go through the trouble of…"

"Nonsense, I admit you could go to the clinic, but the clinic won't have the most fantastic Radiohead bootleg on vinyl to listen to while your wounds are getting doctored. Plus I have a state of the art espresso maker to sweeten the deal. Don't worry Sookie, I'm not going to kidnap you and I won't get fresh, I promise." He says the last part with a very theatric southern accent, and it cracks me up. It also reminds me of a question I wanted to ask him.

"So how long have you been here? America,I mean. Did you move here with your older sister?"

He proceeds to tell me that his sister, Pam Northman, is actually the head librarian here at school, and he moved to Georgia after he completed his senior year in Sweden. He doesn't seem to want to go into any detail, however, so I let it drop when he does. We approach a muscle car painted candy apple red with black leather interior and he unlocks the passenger door to help me inside.

"Damn, this is a really cool car. 1972 'Vette? Or is it a 73?" I ask animatedly. I love classic cars. My brother, Jason is a total motor head, and he used to take me to car shows every summer in Baton Rouge.

"Wow, Sookie, you have unexpected depths." His expression swells with pride, astonishment, and something else… desire, maybe? One could only hope. "It's a '72, and was a combination graduation and parting gift from my parents. They bought and paid for it on E-bay, believe it or not, and it was waiting for me at Pam's house when I got back from the airport. Her name is Lola." He strokes the dash in a petting gesture and says, "she's my baby, my American sweetheart," his fondness for his car would give some girls the creeps, but my brother always said that the way a man treats his mother and his car is a good indication of how he treats his lady.

"So, do you share a place with Pam?" I wonder, as he takes a CD out his visor and slides it in the state of the art Bose CD player. Beck. Nice.

"Nope, I got my own place just a few weeks ago, actually," he began, "she started getting serious with this guy, Clancy, and I figured that was my cue to spread my wings a bit. It's just a small studio, but it's close to my job and campus, and it works well for me. It's actually located on Calhoun Square in the Historic District, so, it's neck deep in charm."

"So, you're right around the corner from River Street? That's really cool; I was going to job hunt down there later on this afternoon. You wouldn't know of any restaurants that are hiring would you?" I asked in passing, not really expecting a serious answer.

"What do you want to do?" He inquired with another wry smirk crossing his face, "The bar I work for is actually looking for a cocktail waitress. It's called the Nest, and it's a popular place right on the river, so tips are outstanding." He goes on to explain that he is a bartender, and that I would fit in well there. I shudder involuntarily, thinking how great it would be to work with this fine creature and get to see him outside of school—when suddenly he makes a jab at my ego.

"Are you sure you can handle carrying trays full of drinks, I mean, with your two left feet it must be quite a career hazard," He laughs and reaches over to stroke my cheek. "Just kidding, beautiful, I'll take you there tonight before my shift and introduce you to the owner. He'll just love you, I'm sure of it."

I feel the need to defend my recent proneness to accidents and so I retort, "you know, I am actually a damn good waitress, I think I'm just having an off day is all." I pout and cross my arms in front of my chest, giving my best impression of a 5 year old that was just told she wasn't invited to someone's birthday party.

He turns onto the square and chuckles,"I'm sure you're a damn good waitress, Sookie, I just like to see your angry face. You know how fucking adorable you are when you get defensive? Besides, I almost want to introduce you as the new bouncer, what, with all your mad fighting skills." Now it's my turn to chuckle, and I unbuckle my seat belt as he makes a 'this is it' gesture with his hands. It's a gorgeous turquoise and green home. At least 200 years old, but just bursting with Savannah charm. It's broken down into three studios, with a staircase leading to the third floor, which is apparently Eric's apartment. Walking in, I had to catch my breath at the shock of its beauty. Wooden beams cross the dramatically vaulted ceiling and cherry wood floors shine throughout the small yet open space. I realize after closer inspection, that this must have once been the attic of the home originally. "Have a seat on the sofa; I'm just going to get some supplies. Can I get you a drink? I was going to make some espresso, or I have beer or bottled water…"

"An espresso would be great, thanks." I take his direction and sit on a bright red micro-suede couch—the kind of sofa that you could pass right out on. This man has excellent taste. On a wall above his flat screen TV is a huge Van Morrison picture. I would call it a wall hanging, except it was made of wood and has a three dimensional quality to it. On a wall to the right of the sofa hangs a subway sized poster of the OK Computer album, my favorite Radiohead album ever. He comes back to sit on the coffee table in front of me with an ice pack, an ace bandage, and some antiseptic liquid.

"Now, I really want to get some ice on you face, but let's take care of your shoulder first. I want to wrap it with this bandage, but it would be easier if you took off your shirt first," he looks at me for a moment, I'm sure taking in my shocked expression before continuing, "look, I promised not to get fresh, and I won't. But it will be easier to wrap you properly without having the shirt in the way." I nod nervously at him, he does seem like he isn't just trying to get a show, and I begin to lift my shirt up, only the motion sends a shooting pain through my shoulder and I wince. He takes the bottom hem of my shirt and looks directly in my eyes, seeking approval to help me remove the article of clothing, and I nod again. I secretly applaud myself for at least wearing my red satin, yet opaque bra, instead of the beige see through number I wear for comfort. He gingerly pulls the shirt over my head, careful not to muss my hair too badly, and lets out a tiny gasp.

"Hey, mister, you said no fresh stuff," I joke as he blushes the lightest shade of pink, at my expense no less.

"S-sorry, I just couldn't help but react. I…you are a very beautiful girl, Sookie." His voice took on a raspy quality which left me even more edgy and also caused a bit of a disturbance in my nether-regions.

"Its okay doc, just get to work," I try to keep my voice level, but I notice a catch to it. _Keep it light, Sookie. _He grabs the ice pack and places it tenderly on my sore shoulder. He holds it with one hand and with the other he dabs a cloth in the antiseptic rinse to apply to the small cut on my cheek. His face is only inches from mine and I take in his beauty. His hair falls loose from the low pony tail in wavy tendrils framing his perfect jaw line. The blue of his eyes is striking, and the long lashes that surround them are heart stopping. His flawless mouth is opened slightly as he begins to blow softly against the cut on my cheek. I don't know why, but my face sort of instinctually moves forward a bit and next thing I realize I'm brushing my lips against his. The ice pack drops to the couch cushion and his arm wraps around my waist as he tilts his head down to latch on to my bottom lip. He kisses me softly for a moment and as he pulls away, I notice his eyes are closed and a smile is forming on his lips.

When his eyes open again he whispers, "du är vad en måne alltid har betytt  
och vad en sol alltid kommer sjunga är du,"

My face is once again leaning toward his, and I do my best to control my voice when I ask softly," what does it mean?"

He kisses the corner of my mouth lightly and then my chin. He pecks along my jaw and up to the spot beneath my earlobe and then whispers shakily, "you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing, is you,"

"E.E Cummings," I say softly, "I love E.E Cummings," Eric then takes my face gently in his strong hands and meets my anxious lips for another kiss—this one much more intense than the last. My tongue escapes and runs across his lip and his mouth parts slightly to allow entrance. Our tongues dance and explore and I moan quietly into him. Just then his right hand cascades down my jaw and neck to rest with his thumb stroking my collarbone. I move my right hand to wrap around his neck so I can get my fingers in his gorgeous hair when the movement jars my aching shoulder and I gasp at the searing pain. Eric pulls back from the kiss abruptly leaving my lips cold and lonely for his.

"I'd better finish up with your first aid," he says hoarsely, "I have some Tylenol too, and I'll bet the coffee's ready by now." He stands up and wobbles a bit, which brings a smile to my sore face, and walks into the kitchen. _Best. Kiss. Ever. _I think to myself, and pick up the ice pack to return to my shoulder. My body temperature has probably risen enough from that kiss that it will all melt in a minute flat.

I need to be on my toes with this one. He's a suave bastard, that's for sure.

Well, hell.


	4. Kill Your Darlings

_A/N- Thanks again everyone, I need to get better at responding to reviews, but thank you BIG-TIME to all that have left one, and added story to alerts. Hugs to all!_

_A/N. This one will be short… mostly Eric's inner conflict, but don't worry, they will interact plenty and very, very soon…Thanks for reading! ___

_A/N- as always, CH owns the characters, I borrow them to ease my heart pains caused by having to wait for the next book to come out!_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

EPOV (about an hour after Sookie leaves the studio)

Thinking back on the days events, I can only construe my actions as thoughtless, reckless and completely out of character for me. What the hell was I thinking offering Sookie an introduction to my boss? Why the _fuck _would I want a girl I am trying to seduce into my bed _working with_ me? The Nest is my home base. I meet a tourist girl who I find attractive, pour a bit heavy into her cocktails and throw a little random Chaucer or Hemingway at her and she becomes honey under my tongue. Having Sookie work with me would not only interfere with my pursuits, but I would have to face her daily after she learned the truth of my opportunistic nature. I don't want the girl to hate me—no, quite the opposite intention in fact. I want her to fall head over heels for me. I want to sweep her from her feet and watch the ground shake when she falls so hard for me that she renounces all advances from other men. I want to be the first thought she has when she wakes up, the last when she lays her head to sleep and the only man who appears in her dreams!

_But, why?_

I most certainly would not return that kind of devotion. I have never wanted a girl attached to me romantically. It makes things messy, and swooning girls become quite irritating, quite quickly. And then I remember…_I like it when Sookie swoons._

When she was knocked over in the Student Center by that little shit (which I plan to find, and at the very least, give him a taste of _my_ left hook), Sookie nearly fainted at the kiss I gave her on the top of her hand when we made our introductions_. _It wasn't as much the sense of accomplishment that I get from being noticed by other girls._ I felt proud_. I felt almost immediately protective of her.

_This is nuts. I need to call a therapist. _

It's not that I want complete control over her. I have to admit this before I am misconceived as a man who is not up to a challenge, but what do I want from her, and why does this train of thought leave me questioning my current plan of attack?

Bringing Sookie back to my apartment was just another attribute of my fore mentioned opportunistic quality, and also, another one of my mistakes. Sure, I could have procured ice from any one of the abundant kitchen facilities on campus, and her shoulder wouldn't have so greatly benefited from an Ace bandage that taking her off of school grounds was deemed necessary—but I go into the brief conversation with her regarding our mutual favorite band and couldn't resist showing off a bit to her. And the whole fight club thing? Unexpected, impressive, and even intimidating, yes—but mostly just fucking hot. Having things in common with a girl I am in pursuit of is something I don't give myself time to learn about. I never bring bar quests to my home—usually they get nailed up against the wall in the unused storage room upstairs—but for some reason I wanted Sookie to be just as impressed by _me_. By my style and taste in music and taste in furniture or even something as mundane as an appreciation of my independence or my tidy studio. For reasons still unbeknownst to me, I wanted her to respect me and think me gentle and caring and witty and familiar and…_tame_. I just want to pinch myself and scream so that I will wake up and—when I do—the real Eric will emerge in all his desensitized glory. But, no. Instead I almost slip and share with her mine and Pam's reasons for moving to Georgia. _Instead_, I _pull away_ from a kiss with a topless, beautiful blonde who is practically pulsating with desire for me, because I was _worried_ about her shoulder? No. The _real_ Eric—should he ever again choose to grace me with his presence, will get a serious talking to—the _real_ fucking Eric would have ignored the slight gasp of pain and let it only fuel me on further to ravish her, pain be damned. I should have used it as an opportunity instead of an excuse to stop. I disappointed myself with that act of chivalry. I disappointed my erection as well.

She seemed a bit hurt at first, but then relieved that I pulled away. She probably got lost in the moment--or whatever worthless cliché girls use when they talk of stepping off the 'pedestal of prude'. She was probably grateful that I inadvertently saved her from her own hidden little sex kitten. I don't know if she would have gone further than the kiss, but I can imagine. It was such a turn on seeing the change of emotion and release from inhibition flicker in her crystal blue eyes when I was blowing on the cut on her cheek. The way her body instinctively moved forward and the quiver of her lip as her decision to move closer yet, was made. I was able to convince her to remove her shirt, which admittedly was necessary to wrap her shoulder. But, still, I could have taken her the moment her bra was visible. I don't think I was able to prevent a gasp from escaping as I took in the beauty of her supple skin covered only by the scarlet lace, her nipples pebbled by the draft in my air-conditioned apartment on a humid day. I surprised myself with my reaction to that sight. I have seen it all before, many times, but was there really anything so profound and glorious about _her_ barely covered torso that would cause me to elicit a gasp? Apparently, according to the impostor Eric, there was. And then _she_ stepped up to the plate. _She_ made the decision to brush her lips against mine. _She_ turned the tables on me and… and I wasn't prepared for that.

Yes, that has to be the perfect explanation. She caught me off guard and I won't err again. But she has been catching me off guard since the moment I met her. Reaching into my pocket for my phone, telling me of her love for fighting, knowing the year of my 'Vette—yes I am most certain she will cause me to slip often. The fifty thousand dollar questions remain, however. Is it worth slipping occasionally to be around this girl? And if I do, could I slip enough times to actually fall? Would all these years of developing an emotional armor be in vain if I fall hard enough, and then, could it crack? And if it cracks, what would come seeping out?

I ended up tending to her wounds, assisting in pulling the shirt back on, and listening to a couple records with her before chastely kissing her on the cheek and driving back to campus. I told Sookie I'd pick her up at 4 from the Student Center parking lot to take her to the bar to introduce her to Alcide, my boss at The Nest. As regretful as I am about the mention of the job opening, I am also sort of proud that I may be the one to get this girl a job. She mentioned being stressed out about paying tuition, and regardless of my newfound sensitivity, I'd hate for her to have to drop out and move back to Louisiana to go to a Community College--which is what she mentioned she would do if she didn't get a job fast. She may end up around me more than I wanted, but for her to be completely removed from my life, at this point, was almost unbearable to consider_. Fuck!_ One day. One damned day knowing this girl and I am coming unhinged! This clumsy, beautiful, tough, endearing girl puts her hand in my pocket and her sweet tongue in my mouth and suddenly I become this strange copy of me. I become someone who recites poetry because it reflects some lost emotion in me, rather than just saying it to make her wet. I find myself missing her. This has got to fucking stop. You cannot miss what cannot be lost. I need to repair this hairline fracture before it splits me in two.

*******************

I decide to work on a poem I have revised twice already, but need to perfect to my standards before including it in my final collection for my dissertation. I have a class in 45 minutes; I sit at my laptop and pull myself together.

_Time to get a little work done and stop all this weird moody, brooding shit. _

I add a stanza to the end, shave off a few lines that I really liked, but were not cohesive with the piece (sometimes you must kill your darlings, as Faulkner first said), and add a title that seems appropriate for now. I can always change it later.

I finish my second cup of espresso and turn off the record player before grabbing my laptop bag and heading back to campus for class. As I fold myself into the driver's seat of Lola, I catch a whiff of Sookie and her damn strawberries and champagne lotion. I pull the car out my parking spot, flip it into drive and bare down on the peddle hard so that I can get to school and get Sookie out of my head and her smell out of my nostrils as fast as possible. Or maybe just to get to _her _as fast as possible?

Fuck.

I'm totally screwed and I know it. I liked who I was before today. I was confident, uncomplicated, and never second guessed myself. But now—like so many of my poems—layers of me that I liked are being shaved away by this girl. _One day is all it took_. To get rid of the elements that you love so much about yourself, but don't really add anything to the whole - or, even worse, actually weakens it, is something I may have on paper, yes. But to do it to myself? Wouldn't that be like self-mutilation? Could it make me less of a man?

_Sometimes you must kill your darlings. _

Jesus, I need a fucking drink.

_A/N Yeah, Eric cusses like a sailor guys, sorry, but that's how he comes to me. ;)_

_Doesn't seem like our confident leading man is so sure of himself anymore…. Hmmmm_

_Don't worry guys, longer chapters coming soon. _

_;)_


	5. Southern Comfort

_**A/N Characters belong to the amazing Charlaine Harris**_

_**Thank you infinity to everyone leaves reviews and/or adds to alert. It certainly gives me the **_

_**warm and fuzzies . Almost as warm and fuzzy as Eric/Alex makes me ;)**_

_**Sorry for the delay, but I will have an EPOV right up for you guys. By tomorrow night probably!**_

*****

**SPOV**

Sitting on a bench in the main courtyard, I admired the sweet scent of recently fallen rain which permeated the air with honeysuckle and magnolia. I thought back over the day's events with a dazed nostalgia. I had been practically stampeded, ruined my favorite bottle of lotion, bruised my jaw, almost dislocated my shoulder, met the most gorgeous boy I have ever seen—who coincidentally came to my rescue twice—stripped to my bra, kissed said gorgeous boy, and It's only my first day of my sophomore year. I went and paid part of my tuition after Eric dropped me back off on campus, and made a payment arrangement to get the remaining balance taken care of within two months. I had saved close to two thousand dollars over summer break from working at Merlotte's Bar and Grill back home in Bon Temps, but after buying the bus ticket back to Savannah, text books, and groceries for my dorm, I was left with enough cash to pay half my tuition. The scholarship covered a lot, don't get me wrong, but Leclerc is an expensive school, right up there with Emory University, a pretty prestigious college up in Atlanta. I would need to get a job and get one quick, or it would be back to Louisiana for Sookie Stackhouse.

My Gran died the week after I graduated from high school. She knew her health was failing quickly when she went in for a routine check up and was told she had lost nearly twenty pounds in 3 months. She was sent for lab work by the doctor and passed in her sleep two days later. She never even got to hear the results of the blood work. She died of pancreatic cancer. It killed her fast and without many painful side effects. My best friend since we were babies, Tara, said it was a blessing that the cancer took her swiftly, as Gran never had a chance to really get sick. Jason and I were devastated by her sudden passing. She raised both of us after a flash flood took our parents when we were both in grade school. She was our mother, father, aunt, uncle, and our very best friend. She was proud of my academic achievements, and wanted me to go to a good college. When I got my acceptance letter from LeClerc, I never saw her so happy. She jumped up and down and called everyone she knew screaming into the phones mouthpiece with a proud ferocity that probably scared the crap out of the person on the other end of the line. She sold her car without telling me a week after I got accepted. She didn't tell me she was going to, and when I came into the kitchen after one of my final days as a high school student to make a glass of sweet tea, I saw the check sitting under the banana hammock. It was signed by an Octavia Fant, made out to Adele Stackhouse, and in the memo section said '_'06 Corolla: paid in full'. _

She bought that car with cash after selling a piece of land that was left to her after grandpa died. He had purchased it with the intention of building a shooting range, but died before he could bring that dream to fruition, and Gran needed a new car. She ordered it custom from the dealer, with every upgrade one could imagine. She said it was well deserved, but I could still always see a glint of guilt in her eyes for making such a "pretentious investment". If I had an ounce of choice in the matter, my gran would've had a Caddilac. What she deserved, was the very best. But she sold her car and paid for my first year of college. And here I am. I'd better make her proud.

* * *

I heard her before I saw her. Skipping through the courtyard and practically fuming, was Amelia. Her voice loud and commandeering, letting me know just how much trouble I was in.

"Sookie Adele Fucking Stackhouse!" How dare she desecrate my name!

"Amelia Cuntbag Broadway," I returned, but with a 'please hear me out I had a crazy day' smile on my face.

"I cannot believe you flaked on me Sook,--what the _hell_ happened to your face?" Amelia grazed over my jaw and eye and then continued, "Shit, Sookie, you're not goin' all Fight Club on us again, are you? I mean that shit was hot for like four busted lips, but your face is too damn valuable for this chick fight scene,"

"No. Amelia. Dammit, sit your panicky butt down and listen to me!" I pleaded, "I have had a crazy day, and I need you to give me feedback. This morning, I kinda got run over by this kid…"

So I explained everything. From the shock and humiliation of lying on the cold floor of The Student Union, to the topless kiss I had at Eric's. She stared, wide eyed, and occasionally would blink or lick her lips in anticipation, and when I got to the part about his plan to take me to the bar where he works to apply for a waitress position, Amelia was lit up like sunrise on the Atlantic.

"So what the hell are you waiting for, Sookie? We have to get you to the dorm, put you in a skirt and make that sixty five dollar foundation worth every stinkin' penny! Come. _On!_" She grabbed me by the wrist and I flinched, but she just kept ignoring my various contusions and dragged me back to the dorm.

"Okay," She breathed, sifting through my closet no fast and so nimbly, that I thought I would get motion sickness watching her go. "It could possible lead to both an interview—and /or sex with a hot grad student. Either way, you have to display your best assets, but leave plenty to be desired all simultaneously. This is tricky, Sook, but I know it can be achieved"

She is a woman on a mission.

"Dammit Amelia, I am not having sex with the boy just because he is introducing me to his boss! Besides, I don't think it's like that with us. I mean, he did invite me to a beach party this weekend, but that was before the _awkward _fucking moment at his house when I _kissed_ him and he _pulled _away." Honestly, I need a job bad. But I don't really think working with this guy is going to prevent me from doing anything stupid again. I bet I am full of vapid, swoony girl shit when it comes to Eric. I really just don't want to fall for anyone and take any chances on further humiliation, and working with the new object of my affection can only prove to be one embarrassment after another.

"Beach party? Oh Sookie, don't you see? This is perfect! You never had any fun last year, and now that you're a sophomore you have to start experiencing college. You only have three years left to make college memories. You have to have something a little more intriguing to tell you grandkids than_,' when I was in college, Dearie, I studied real hard and had coffee three times a day with my boring friend and her dorky brother._' Plus, Sookie! Now I get to take you bathing suit shopping," Amelia winked and went back to perusing my closet like the Tasmanian Devil wears Prada.

"Okay, okay, it's _not_ an interview. It's an application and an introduction. Eric is _not _a love interest," I am a liar. "He is just my continual source of first aid. I refuse to be dolled up and look like I am trying too hard! I have _had_ it Amelia, I'm wearing jeans and flip flops and you are _not _stopping me!" I get so frustrated with her attempts at perfection. I mean, I have facial contusions and a swollen eye for chrissake!

"Ugh, Sookie!" Amelia gets frustrated too. I have to humor her.

"Okay, Amelia, I'll tell you what," at this she raises an eyebrow and maintains her pout. "You can pick out sundress for me to wear, but I am not wearing heels, got it?" Her pout became less three-year-old, but still, she managed to look defeated. "Listen, I have fallen HARD twice today already, I do not need to break my fucking leg next, okay?" I brushed the hair from my eyes and sighed. "Okay, sweetie?" I repeat a bit softer. Sometimes I have to appeal to her softer side.

She finally agreed, mumbling smething under her breath like, "…_fallen three times if you ask me_…" and picked out a white strapless with red poppies randomly placed among the skirt. I wore a red lace cami underneath to hide the girls a bit better. I would, in all honesty, prefer to wear a black pair of Dickies and my Rage Againt the Machine tee, but potential employment beats comfort hands down.

She curled my hair and pulled it into a sleek ponytail. She poofed my bangs and clipped them back into a "classy feux hawk" as she put it, and I brushed on some mascara and lip gloss while Amelia covered what is beginning to be a pretty wicked black eye with her expensive makeup. A spritz of fruity body spray and some cherry red sandals and suddenly I look, by most definitions, like a girl.

On a mission.

I suddenly become nervous to see Eric and meet his boss. I become hesitant and self conscious in these clothes going to a bar. Then, I consider having a job at one of the hottest spots in Savannah, and paying my tuition in full every semester, and I consider not having to settle for Community College and I become happy. And then, just as I allow myself a gleeful smile, my phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sookie, it's Eric." God, his voice drips sex.

"Hey, Eric, what's goin' on darlin'?" I try hard _not_ to sound like I'm shaking all over by the sweet tenor in his voice.

"Just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight. I called Alcide, my boss, and he's looking forward to meeting you."

"Of course, we're still on, but I decided I should meet you there. You have to work, after all, so I don't know how I'd get back to campus once I'd met him." Yes, I can be perfectly logical, no stuttering, or stammering or anything.

"Oh no, Sookie, I am picking you up like we planned. I don't have to start until eight, so you and I have a full two hours to meet my boss, walk River Street a bit, and get you home. I'll see you in ten minutes. Oh, and Sookie, darling?

Um. Okay. Heart be still. Calm down. A man calling you darling in a sex-voice filled with Swedish accented innuendos is nothing to go all hormonal over.

"Yes, Eric?" Ha! My voice didn't break once. Take that swoony bitches of America!

"As much as I adore your rocker chic look, Alcide loves seeing leg. I know that's a bit creepy for me to say, but it might be the clincher."

I look at Amelia through my eyelashes and roll my eyes.

"Already thought of that, Eric, I just hope he considers hiring me for my skills _waiting_ on tables rather than my skills _dancing_ on tables, if you know what I mean," Amelia looks at me like she's about to choke, and I hear Eric chuckle throatily on the other end.

"No, my feisty belle, he just appreciates a good view, I promise. Nothing to write your Feminist Lit Professor about."

Smiling broadly I say, "Okay, I'll see you soon."

After disconnecting, Amelia gives me a knowing look and then bolts off my bed to wrap me in a bear hug.

"Ouch, you're hurting me!" I hug her back and then push her off.

"I am just so happy for you, Sook. I mean a new job, a new guy, and shit Sookie, I could tell you have it bad for this guy, you shoulda' seen yourself when you were talking to him. Like all giddy one minute, and all serious the next like you were concentrating really hard on not sounding stupid."

Yes, Amelia knows me well.

But I can't get my hopes up. For the job I mean. I have no hopes with Eric. That way there's no rejection and no disappointment. I can just be one of the guys, and we can talk cars or music and take shots together. It's what I'm good at. It's also why I never have a real boyfriend, but it's all about comfort for me. Liking a guy as more than a friend gets complicated and messy for me. This way I won't get all girly and nauseating, and he won't have to worry about it getting awkward again. Yes, I am officially and hereby determined not to let a day old crush get in the way of my income, or my pride.

Eric Northman, you are about to become befriended.

***

_**A/N EPOV will be served up fresh very soon. One more chapter to go and we'll move past this day in the life of Sookie and Eric. It's been an awfully long day for these kids.**_

_**PS…. Reviews make me type faster and make it easier to neglect schoolwork ;)**_


	6. Days End

_**A/N Characters belong to the great CH.**_

_**Here's a longer chappie for you wonderful reviewers, thanks to all, and to all a good read!!**_

**EPOV**

The fact that I'm spending an obscene amount of time looking for something to wear should have tipped me off to my deepening insanity. I don't ever really care how I look. Yes, I am conceited, but clothes don't make the person, and I know I could impress a girl in a paper bag if that's all I had to wear. Still, I can't help but feel a bit flustered and unsure. The standard jeans and form fitting t-shirt just won't do this evening. With this mindset, I finally decide on a pale black button up and charcoal slacks. Not formal by any means, but definitely a notch up from my regular attire.

After calling Sookie to confirm she was still meeting me, I felt a sense of relief when I heard her voice. Like a pressure was lifted. I didn't even realize I was fearing that she would back out until I heard her agree to meet me. I recommended she wear something to show off her legs for Alcide, but I would be lying if I said it was only for his benefit. I also jerked in my computer chair when she hinted that she would be showing leg. I have to control myself around this girl. She could be the undoer of my cool.

Alcide will definitely hire Sookie. I talked to him earlier today and explained her past experience. When he asked if she was a hottie, I had to laugh out loud. Alcide tends to be quite superficial, and as the manager, he hires only very attractive people. I assured him she was quite adorable, as that description was accurate, except not entirely all encompassing when referring to Sookie's appeal. She is adorable, yes. But also--stunning. She's not the average beauty, she has curves, and soft lines and though she is very well proportioned, she's not skinny like today's supermodels. If Pam is a size 4 then Sookie is probably an 8 or a 10. But seeing her with her top off, her smooth stomach exposed, makes girls like my sister seem malnourished in comparison. Just as my mind began to wander and wonder what her bare thighs would feel like wrapped around my hips--I was jerked out of my reverie by a loud knock at my door. _Who the fuck?_

I look through the peephole and see the top of a blonde head and a large pair of Chanel sunglasses. Pam. Dammit, I have to leave for Sookie _right now._

Opening the door, and raising an eyebrow to my dear sister, I simply ask, "Pam, what's going on?"

"Nothing is going on, brother, I just thought we could hang out until you have to work. I was thinking of meeting the girls for a drink later and wanted to kill some time." She pushed past my tall frame and made toward the couch.

"Umm, Pam, I have somewhere to be, like right now, so as much as I'd love some bonding time, I'll have to pass," I couldn't quite hide the impatience in my voice.

"Oh yeah?" She cocked an eyebrow back at me. Must be genetic. "And what, may I ask, does my dear brother have to accomplish this evening that would disallow his loving sister from accompanying?"

Sighing heavily, I pulled her gently from the couch and led her to the front door. I grabbed my wallet and my keys from the counter and exited my apartment behind my sister. Shutting and locking the door behind both of us, I place my arm around her and we descend the stairs together.

"And why the hell are you all dressed up, Eric? Come on, spill. Do you have a fucking date? Oh this is rich. You do, don't you?" By now she is gripping my shoulder and trying to shake something out of me.

"No, Pammy dear. No date. I am simply escorting a young woman meet Alcide. The one I mentioned when I visited you today? You know the one who got trampled…"

"Ohhh… I see, so you _offered her _a job? Guess you _don't _plan on getting her panties down, then," she mumbled followed with an exasperated sigh, "Fine, brother, I will see you later. I'll just go get a manicure or something until I meet my girls. I'll be at the bar around 8:30." with a kiss on the cheek she was gone.

Pam comes by The Nest a couple times a week to get the VIP treatment with her girlfriends. Alcide has a standing fantasy about librarians and secretaries, and Pam and company do not disappoint on that front. Pam seems to be getting pretty serious with Clancy, but I still notice her flirt unabashedly with my boss occasionally. She probably just wants to make sure the free drinks keep coming.

As I approach campus, I realize I feel a bit nervous.

_No fucking way_. I don't get nervous.

Recalling the kiss a few short hours ago, my palms start to sweat on the leather of my steering wheel, and I feel a slight stir in my crotch. "Calm down boy." I beg my cock into submission and crank up the stereo. She will probably end up a being my co-worker. I cannot and will not pursue her sexually. Yes, I invited her to Clancy's sisters beach party, but I can easily let her know she can bring a few friends so she doesn't feel awkward. So she doesn't consider it a date. Wait. What will she think about my plans for tonight, then? I mean, walking down River Street and grabbing a bite to eat could easily be misconstrued as a date-like activity.

Fuck.

I decide to let the gnawing thought go as I pull into the parking lot of The Student Union.

I'll just have to play this by ear.

I turn down the blaring sounds of The Animals on my stereo and pull up slowly to the curb. I'm a few minutes early, so I let my eyes wander around the building, trying to catch a glimpse of Sookie's golden hair. What I did not expect to see was the bombshell of a woman walking toward my Vette. Instantly my cock grew hard at the sight. Sookie, veiled by the setting sun, looking like a wet dream strolled up slowly in red strappy sandals. Moving my gaze slowly up her shapely, beautifully sun kissed legs, to the hem of the short sundress, and up to her gorgeous cleavage. Up further to her graceful neck and then to a perfectly made up face and hair done like a pin up model. I let out a brief cough and shook my head of the dirty images I was having of running my hands up and down the length of her smooth legs, of licking the delicate ridges of her collarbone, of her straddling me in that dress--

"Hey, don't you look nice?" She drawled in her lovely southern twang.

"Um, thanks, you too," I cough again and clear my throat, "I mean, Alcide will, I mean… wow,"

Nice, Eric. Real smooth. Real fucking subtle.

"Thank you. Amelia likes to play dress up with me. I am her favorite doll," Sookie rolls her eyes and puts on her seatbelt, "I mean, this isn't too much, is it? You really think Alcide won't get the wrong idea,"

Understanding dawned on me then, and I knew I need to reassure her.

"No way, Sookie, you look perfect. I guess I need to tell you a few things about my boss, just so you are forewarned," I begin as I look her directly in those beautiful eyes, "Alcide is very appreciative of beauty. He is very flirtatious and suave, and I guarantee he will take that up a notch when he sees you, but he is also very professional as well. And while your beauty will certainly assist his decision to hire you, I assure you he will also take into strong consideration, the fact that you are intelligent, responsible and driven." Removing myself from her penetrating gaze, I add, "but please don't be offended if you catch him staring at inappropriate places on your body. I mean, he is a man after all, and you look, I mean, wow." Jesus, I need to stick to writing, because this talking thing just isn't working out for me right now.

"Thank you, Eric," she chuckled nervously, "I am flattered, really." I risked a glance back up at her and notice that familiar blush encapsulating her cheeks and neck. God, she is so beautiful. So sexy. I bet she has no idea of her appeal. Smiling broadly, I turn the stereo back up a few notches and continue our journey to The Nest.

Sookie and I sang along to Bohemian Rhapsody and talked about Wayne's World and the importance it had on our 'MTV years' as she put it. I was surprised at just how much we seemed to have in common and she even quoted lines from the movie like a champ. Pulling into the employee parking lot, I began to feel a sense of dread. This is it. As soon as Alcide sees her, I will lose any chance of being with Sookie sexually. She will see my true colors night after night and will probably be disgusted with the way I play the female customers like puppets in my own personal show. I belatedly wonder if she will still want to hang out with me next Saturday. I wonder, too, if she'll let me take her to work every night. And then, I realize that _that_ would seriously burden my after hour flings in the upstairs closet.

I am a disgusting human being.

The inner turmoil only lasted long enough for me to pull in to a spot and turn off the car, Sookie looked nervous and insecure, so without over thinking the action, I reached out to touch her face. She looked up at me and for a moment I just wanted to kiss her, I wanted to reach across the middle console and console her with my lips and my tongue and I wanted to pull her across and into my lap and gently tug on her ponytail to expose that beautiful neck to my mouth. But, instead, I just stroked her cheek with my fingertips and whispered, "don't be nervous, you'll do great. Alcide will adore you, and you will make great money and all of your tuition problems will disappear."

She nodded at my attempt to soothe her, and got out of the car.

"He's expecting you, Sookie, so I will walk you up to his office and meet you back at the bar when you're finished." I squeezed her hand once and held open the door to The Nest for her to enter.

The Nest is a dark bar. Black walls adorned with old monster movie posters framed in antiqued gold, and red carpeting throughout. It's a large open space with booths lined on all walls and tables filling the remaining space. The bar area is in the very back and a spiral staircase leads to a loft style dance floor which overlooks the main floor. Large red and yellow stained glass lamps hang over every table and scarlet and black curtains drape around some of the booths in the VIP section. Sookie lets out a brief gasp as she takes in her surroundings.

"This place is awesome, It reminds me of a cross between a brothel and a Transylvanian Mansion," she turned to me and smiled. She lit up the whole dark room when she did and I just had to tell her.

"You look like a candle in a coal mine. You light up the room, Sookie."

She smiled nervously and I winked at her while taking her hand in mine to lead her to Alcides' office.

"His office is up these stairs," I led her up the winding staircase and she touched the banister and muttered something about '_Gone With The Wind meets Frankenstein_.' I laughed and brought her to our destination. I knocked twice and heard Alcide say, "come on in."

Okay. I will be blunt. I wanted to fucking grab my boss by the goddamned throat and rip him apart when I saw the way he looked at Sookie. His eyes went wide and carnal as he assessed the beauty in front of him. And even though I should have just made the introductions and went downstairs, I couldn't help the overwhelming need to stay, with my arm around her waist, and let him know she is off fucking limits to him.

Alcide is a good looking guy, I guess. He and I compete often for the attentions of the ladies, and I have to admit, he's no slouch when it comes to charm. Hazel eyes and wavy brown hair along with a serious tan sometimes rivals my pale complexion and hair, and even though I consider myself attractive--some girls simply find him more attractive. It took everything in my power not to turn Sookie around and walk her out of his office and tell her I'd find her a nice babysitting job. But no, it was too late for that.

He realized he was blatantly ogling a little too long and jumped to make his way to Sookie and me. It didn't escape my notice that he lingered on her tits before extending a hand out to hers to shake it.

"So nice to meet you, darlin'. You must be Sookie!" He took her hand and flipped it over to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Smooth bastard.

"Yes sir Mr. Herveaux, Sookie Stackhouse and it's a pleasure to meet you." She put on the charm as well and I noticed a twinkle in her eyes at his wrist gesture. Fuck. Me.

"You call me Alcide, sweetheart. Now have a seat and we'll have a little talk about the cocktail waitress position," that better be the only position he wants to talk to her about. "Eric, you've done a fine service, bringing this magnificent creature to me, I'll keep her safe, and send her down in about twenty minutes." With this he gave me a knowing glare, a look that says, 'bring it on, son'. I reluctantly turned to the door to exit, and leaned down to kiss Sookie's cheek and gave her a big smile to further reassure her. I risked a glance back up at my boss and shot him daggers with my eyes before shutting the door behind me.

I know those looks. He wants Sookie, that much is obvious. But then he challenged me. He wants to play. Fucking dick, I wish I had never opened my big mouth. He'll definitely hire her now, and I will eventually be exposed as the womanizer I am and he will come sweeping down like a gallant southern fucking knight to show her just what a real gentleman is. It's always been like this with us. He plays the good guy, and I play the bad boy. This only complicates things further. I hate to lose a challenge. I will not fucking lose her affections to him. Could Sookie be attracted to him?

Fuck.

I make my way to the bar and ask Candy for a bourbon and coke. Candy is the day shift bartender, and she is a hot little thing. All bouncy black curls and red lips. Legs for days and tit's the size of cantaloupes. I don't fuck co workers, but I have made out with her a little here and there. She's tried to take it further. Once she tried to blow me behind the bar while I was counting out the till and as much as I didn't want to, I kicked her away from my dick. She doesn't give up though, and I could tell she was a bit jealous and curious about the blonde I walked in with.

"You shouldn't drink before your shift, Eric." She smirked and winked and began pouring my drink, "But I won't tell if you won't." She licked her lips and leaned toward me over the bar. "You look good enough to swallow, Mr. Northman, what's the occasion?''

I rolled my eyes at her blatant attempt to seduce me, but ignored her advances. "I need to do laundry Candy, all jeans are dirty." _Now shut the fuck up and let me wallow in peace._

"Ooh you are a dirty boy aren't you?" _Jesus bitch, go away._

"Yes, Candy, filthy fucking dirty, and quite irritated, so thanks for the drink, but if you don't mind, I'd like to tend to it now."

"Who's the little ho with the church clothes you brought in?" she sneered, ignoring my request for privacy.

"Oh what, can't stand some healthy competition, Candy Cane? Her name is Sookie and she is talking to Alcide about a job. Now wipe the green shit off your face and help that guy with a refill," I motion to one of our regulars who drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon from 2-5 every Monday and Wednesday because its cheap and he likes to hit on the goth girls that come in after their theatre class.

She scoffed, turned red with fury and stomped away. That's right slut, leave me alone.

After a good half an hour and two more drinks, I began to get anxious. What the hell is taking them so long? Before I made my move up the stairs to check on them, I heard Alcides office door open and Sookie's laughter echoed down to me.

"Pleasure's all mine, Alcide. Thanks again, I won't disappoint, I swear." I heard her call to him and close the door. She was still smiling to herself as she descended the stairs. A faint blush remained on her skin, and the anger inside me returned. How dare he make her laugh and blush that beautiful shade of pink. How _fucking_ dare he make her smile and bring that twinkle to her eye! _Fucking bastard_!

"That went well," she began, and I was brought out of my murderous fantasy.

"Knew it would. So when do you start?"

"Friday night, he wants me to work weekends starting out, and then he said he could probably give me more hours after training."

"That's great Sookie, I told you he'd like you." I was genuinely happy for her.

"Thank you so much, Eric. I am so relieved to have a job so fast, and it's all thanks to you." She grinned and giggled and blushed, and finally stood up on her tip-toes and planted her soft, full lips on mine in chaste appreciation.

And all I wanted to do was throw her over my shoulder and pound my chest with my fists and claim her as mine.

I'm royally fucked.

"Bye sexy man, see you in a few hours," candy called from across the room. She blew me a kiss and winked and then said, "don't let our choir girl there soften that cock of mine, ya hear?"

Fucking whore.

Sookie stood tall, squared her shoulders and shot a death glare over to the bar. That's my girl, tell her! Stake your claim! I stood perfectly still, anticipating Sookie's wrath.

"Excuse me?" She drawled sweetly, "Oh wow. I didn't know they made a Bimbo Barbie in life size, why don't you walk your plastic ass over here and say that to our face?"

Candy's face fell and she tensed, obviously not expecting any rebuttal from the angelic figure standing beside me.

"Didn't think so sugar." Sookie answered Candy's nervous expression and then marched toward the bar.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Sookie-- _not choir girl-- _and unless you want me to call you Bitch or Bimbo, then you had better get polite real fast."

Okay, cocks definitely not soft. No ma'am, full on raging by now.

Candy stood silent and seething, and then Sookie slammed the bar with her fist and like venom from a rosebud, her soft lips said, "Okay. Bimbo Barbie it is. Look forward to working with you. Oh, and honey, you might want to wipe some lipstick off your teeth, unless Cheap Slut Barbie is what makes you the big tips," leaning over, Sookie then whispered, "oh, and don't worry, I most certainly won't allow Eric's cock to get soft. I can keep it real hard for you darlin'."

Then she winked and turned around gracefully toward me and the door. I stood shocked and completely aroused.

Sookie is definitely Hardcore Hottie Barbie. And I want play.

I smiled wickedly back at Candy and took Sookie's hand in mine. And we walked proudly onto the cobblestone walk to begin our tour of River Street.

"That was so fucking hot, Sookie." I had to tell her how proud it made me.

"Naah, I am used to girls like her, I learned how to handle them pretty quick." She sounded a bit far away when she said it, and I became curious.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my brother was really popular in school, and he dated girls a lot like that one," she gestured back to the bar, " and I guess I was more reserved, and well, not popular, and girls would always chime in on me about being a prude, or being plain--stupid catty shit is all it was. So, I learned how to shut them up with words instead of fists. As much as I love a good fight, the law suit threats get old." She said it so seriously, and in such a sweet voice, and then she batted her eyelashes at me, and I laughed. I had to stop walking I laughed so deeply. This girl is the perfect combination of soft and hard.

She laughed along with me and I made a decision. I threw my arms around her waist and leaned down to put my lips in the spot beneath her earlobe and whispered in my most seductive voice, "I want another kiss, Sookie. _Pretty please_?"

Her breath caught, and she moved toward my mouth slowly but then whispered back to me, "we're gonna work together, Eric. I thought we could be friends."

Her eyes were hooded with lust as she tried to convince both of us we should just be friends. I decided not to give up just yet. She wants it, I can see it all over her face. In the goosebumps that rose on her skin, on her now hardened nipples poking through the thin cotton of the dress, in the way her body magnetized toward mine.

"Oh no," I crooned, "don't pull the friend card, Sookie. Don't deny the chemistry here. Let me kiss you're beautiful mouth," I said the last part so softly I'm not even sure she heard, but then her lips brushed against mine and I kissed her gently, reverently, at first. Then the kiss deepened and I licked her pouty bottom lip, begging entrance until she yielded to my mouth. I blindly moved us, linked mouths and all, to a tree growing beside a candy shop. I kept kissing her until I had her back to the trunk of the massive willow and deepened the kiss further, my tongue delighting in the soft, wet, warm depths of her. And she tasted so fucking good, I let a moan escape into her mouth and instinctively pressed my body tighter against her body, letting her feel just how much chemistry we have. She moved her hips and arched her back to bring us even closer and then writhed against the massive erection straining in my pants.

"_Fuck, Sookie," _

We continued to kiss and grind against each other, oblivious to the people around us, and I knew if we kept it up I'd just have to wrap her legs around my waist and fuck her right against the tree, so I broke away reluctantly. I had a hand on each side of her head, palms against the bark of the tree, and kept my face dangerously close to hers. We were both panting slightly, coming down from the high of the kiss, and trying to catch our breaths, when she broke spell.

"I don't know what came over me, Eric, I'm so sorry," still breathing hard, she looked down, embarrassed, and I wasn't going to hear that.

"Don't ever apologize for letting me kiss you like that again. I plan on doing it again, too, so don't think I'm going to let you off easy." I joked, and then decided to get serious. "And Sookie?"

"Y-yes Eric?" She stammered. So fucking cute.

"You are sexy, sweet, witty, and wonderful. And a fan-fucking-tastic kisser. And…I like you…a lot."

Okay, the walls come crashing down. The truth is out there ladies and gentlemen.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile, "I like you too, Eric. But, we've known each other for what? Eight hours? Lets do what you said and play it by ear. I think I've had a long day. Do you mind taking me back to campus?"

Shit. Fuck Dammit. And my ego takes a nosedive, ladies and gentleman, crash and _fucking_ _burn_.

"What about the tour," I ask, not doing well at hiding my dissapointment. I think I even pouted a bit.

"Rain check?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye. There it is. That one's all mine. Take that, Alcide!

"Absolutely."

"Besides," she begins skipping along the cobblestones, back to the bar, "we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on," she winks and heat rises in my cheeks. Did I just fucking blush? My God.

Grinning like a five year old, and skipping ahead to catch up to her, I reply, "only because I'm the luckiest bastard alive.'

'We'll see about that Mister," she replied in sing song, And suddenly, I was grateful for the little fucker that ran her over this morning. Suddenly, I wanted to buy that bastard a beer.

Letting her off near her dorm, She gave me a soft peck on the cheek and said sweetly, "It was nice to meet you Eric Northman."

I took her hand before she could get out of my car and trailed tiny kisses up and down her arm.

"Sookie Stackhouse," I drawled in the best southern accent I could muster, "the pleasure, was indeed, _all mine_."

***

When I got home, I knew I had to write something. Smiling and kicking off my shoes before getting changed for work, I brought out my laptop and waited for it to load. Once ready, I typed excitedly:

_An eternity of making shadows_

_Mastering strings of puppets to play_

_With an eternity of diluting the brilliance_

_The sun comes crashing down in her omnipotence,_

_And cuts the grey and strings away._

_It only takes one day,_

_To put the monsters here, at bay._

_**A/N Tons of sexual tension coming right up. And jealous Eric will rear his ugly head after the next chapter. Alcide Vs. Eric? Will Eric be able to keep the monsters at bay for long? **_


	7. Screw the Plan part 1

_**A/N- Ok guys, I'm back, but with a shortened outline. I hate stories that stop updating, and I'm hoping to complete this one in about 5 more chaps (after part 2 of this chap is posted),so,you will at least have some closure. Since I am consolidating the plotline, I must warn you that things will start getting hot and heavy. Not in this part of the chapter, but the next. Here's a short one…**_

_**Happy reading, and sorry again for the massive delay…**_

**SPOV**

I just had to get away from him and clear my head. He had me spinning after that kiss, and I was afraid I may embarrass myself in a very _un_lady-like way in front of hundreds of bystanders.

I got the job.

My smile erupted to a blinding state when I thought of my luck. Alcide is honest and charming, and assured me that once I could conquer a weekend shift, that he'll give me more hours. He told me to consider it training, but it feels like I'm being thrown to the wolves. Weekend evenings on River Street were full capacity and the pace alone should theoretically kill any true 'training' aspect. I know he's testing my ability to catch on and work in a high pressure, high pace environment, but he's also giving me a hell of an opportunity. Weekend shifts at The Nest were coveted. There was quite the potential to make a shit load of tips, and money is the key to my happiness right now. I don't mean to seem shallow, but my life is literally hinging on my ability to pay my tuition right now. So I look forward to the coming weekend for sure.

And Eric, oh sweet Eric. He makes me so crazy. One minute, I'm concentrating on stringing together a complete sentence around him, and the next I'm not so demurely shoving my tongue down his throat and thinking about what it would feel like for his tongue to stroke other places…

But I digress.

His interactions with Alcide and that Candy person were enlightening, to say the least. I know He tried to stake his claim on me when he introduced me to Alcide, and at first I was irritated by his blatant possessive stance, but then I thought it was kind of hot. And boy did I feel like a complete hypocrite when I practically pissed on his leg after Candy and her not so subtle attempts at seduction.

Which he seemed to have found hot as well, if the massive hard on he was sporting was any indication. And God did I want to feel it. And when he pushed me up against that tree, I _did_ feel it. Well, presse against my stomach, but still-it was spec-fucking-tacular.

So, I needed to get my shit together. I had him take me home, and we shared a languid kiss outside my doorway, before he winked at me and grinned like a little boy who just got served a Texas sized ice-cream sundae, but the hint of hooded eyelids told me he wanted to lick me as well. And I felt entirely too okay with that fact; for a girl who had just determined to stay in the friend zone. For a girl who doesn't even know if the boy likes ice-cream, or his favorite color, or if he's a republican, or if he hates kids…

Dammit! I need to lighten up. So the fuck what if I don't know everything about him. There is plenty of time for deep conversations, and revelations. Amelia's 100 percent correct. I need to take some risks, have some fun. It's time to say 'fuck southern mores' and 'fuck my own ideals of moral obligation' and just, well and just potentially get fucked. Up against a wall, or bent over his bright red sofa, or… Okay, I'm veering off track here.

My first and only foray into sex was with my ex, Bill. He was sweet, but just didn't do it for me.

Emotionally or physically.

He was the epitome of a southern gentleman, with a good family, and strong values, but I needed more than someone who looked good on paper. We were together from sophomore to senior year in high school, and our split was amicable, I guess. After coming to school with my third black eye of the semester, he alluded that I wasn't quite the 'lady' for him, but he wishes me the best. He then proceeded to warn me against the effects of getting hit in the face and stated that if I ever needed a good plastic surgeon to reconstruct any deformities from my "fighting thing" that he'd give me the number to a family friend—who, apparently does a mean rhinoplasty.

Yeah, no thanks.

He ended up with this glamazon, Selah, the debutante of Shreveport, and they are rumored to have quite the courtship. I couldn't be happier that I got out of that southern fried disaster when I did.

So, I'm certainly no nun, no sir-ee, but I'm not a turbo slut either. Years of hanging with the guys have de-sensitized me to the fairer sex, but with Eric, I am utterly affected. With the decision to just say 'fuck it' and throw my insecurities out the metaphorical window, and the determination to just see what happens with our chemistry, I crawled into my single bed, in my curiously Amelia-free dorm room, and smiled brightly.

Yes, screw the plan. Eric will be my vehicle for a fun semester. And possibly, he will be my key to some serious sexual gratification. I will just keep on my game face, not fall for him, and stay on the 'blasé' side of the fence. I may not be girlfriend material, but if that kiss on River Street is any premonition, we could have some nice, _friendly_ fun together. With that thought, I sent him a text. He'd still be at work, but maybe it will put a smile on his face. I only hope he likes Chilean erotic poetry…

_Eric_

_I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees…_

_Sookie xx_

Mission accomplished.

With the pseudo-dirty text message sent, and my resolve firm, (yet not firm enough to suppress a blush), I fell into a peaceful slumber, with dreams of pollination and bar fights, and Eric's face between my thighs…

**A/N So that's part 1, I really just wanted to get something posted for you guys. I am splitting the chapter in two, epov up next, and soon. Like tomorrow soon, so heads up, and thanks to all who have decided to give me another chance. **

**I will warn, however, that after tomorrow's posting, I can only promise to update once-twice monthly. **


	8. Screw the Plan part 2

_**A/N… C.H. Owns all rights to characters.**_

_**Okay guys, thank you to all who have reviewed, and/or added to alerts. Glad you're all still hanging in here with me!**_

_**Here is Pt. 2. It will get a bit lemony in this chapter, so be forewarned guys…**_

**EPOV**

After clocking in and prepping the bar for an evening full of mixing drinks and calling cabs for drunkards, I jogged up the winding staircase to Alcides office. My mind has to remind my mouth that I'm simply inquiring about the recent vodka order. But my instincts repeat over and over to warn him against touching my girl.

Yes, you heard me. My girl.

I decided to say fuck it. Fuck concerning myself with the other vapid whores who throw themselves at me nightly. Fuck the rule against screwing co-workers.

And most shocking of all, I decided to say a big fuck you to my bullshit fear of relationships.

I want, no I need Sookie. I realized this unequivocally after I tasted her tongue. After I held her in my arms and she fell perfectly into my form. I, Eric Northman, am falling in love with Sookie Stackhouse after a mere day of knowing she existed.

And guess what?

It scares the living shit out of me.

But it also thrills me to the point that I just don't care about the fear anymore.

Alcide sits behind his desk stuffing checks into envelopes. I poke my head in the door and knock twice.

"Well, Eric, so nice to see you, come on in bud," he motions to the leather chair in front of his desk.

"Man oh man, that Sookie girl is quite a looker, huh? You hit that yet?" Alcide wags his eyebrows like the sleaze he is, and pulls out a Marlboro Red. He offers me a smoke. I shake my head to decline, but also to try and shake away my murderous rage at his disrespect toward Sookie.

"Now, Alcide, is that the way to talk about a fine young belle like Sookie? I don't think so." I tried to come in here and keep it light, but he deserves this. "I want to make something crystal clear to you, boss. Sookie is off fucking limits. She's a nice girl-"

"Whoa, there boy. Did you just say she's 'off limits'? What'd she do, blow you with a golden throat or something? Oooh she must be good for you to pull this possessive shit on her." He sneers, and bile rises up to my tongue.

"ENOUGH!" I roar and hit his desk with my palm. He flinches and stands, towering above me. "Alcide, you are her boss! She is not one of the Spring Break sluts you can play with and throw away. Now keep your filthy mouth shut about her unless it's to praise her for being a great waitress. But I will not tolerate your bullshit with this one. I…I really like her, okay? Can we just drop the competitive shit already? I'm done. Done with all of it. From here on out, I work here for a living, not to get my dick wet, and certainly not to go head to head with _you_." I'm shaking and livid, but quite relieved that I got this off my chest.

Alcide calms visibly, eerily, and sits back in his swivel chair.

'Okay, bud, I get it. I'll lay off when it comes to her." He puts up two fingers, "scouts honor, man."

That was easy. _Too easy_. I thought I heard him mutter, "You've changed" as I walked out the door.

Yes. Yes, I have changed.

The rest of my night is spent in a daze. Women are flirting, and my instincts are to flirt right back. A group of gorgeous locals come in for a bachelorette party. One keeps licking her lips and eyeing my crotch. She has legs for days and a rack like a swimsuit model. Red lips and bedroom eyes. It would be so easy to gesture her up the stairs and into the storage room. But, bursting through these instincts are flashes of flaxen hair and denim eyes, and Sookie. Sookie when I blink-and Sookies lips moist from a flick of her tongue. No one else exists. I make eye contact with the red lipped woman. I shake my head and for some reason point to my ring finger, which of course, is bare. She looks at me confused, then rejected, as she huffs and heads back to her table.

I've changed.

At around midnight, I wipe down the counter and grab a glass of sweet tea, heading out back for a break. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and my heart stops when I see that I've received a text from my girl.

Neruda. She quotes Pablo fucking Neruda, and not just any poem of his.

My favorite.

And she tells me she wants to do with me what spring does to cherry trees, and my cock hardens immediately. This one line says it all. She's saying to hell with propriety as well. My hard mood deteriorates. I spend the rest of my night smiling, and imagining Sookie as mine.

The next morning, I wake up earlier than my alarm. I hear the birds chirping and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I vaguely recall my dreams. Sookie laid out over the hood of my Corvette-in only a bikini top and cut-off shorts. I stand in-between her spread legs and lean down to lick her collar bone, she moans and writhes as I move my mouth to her cleavage. I bite, lick and grunt with pure ecstasy as she begs me to take her nipple into my mouth. I comply, and she bucks her hips up to meet mine. I'm pulsating and rock hard for her. And I want the damn dream to come true so bad. I realize that I'm stroking myself and scoff in disgust.

_Really, Eric? Disgust? Just take care of it so you don't have a tent pitched all day, now _that_ would be disgusting_.

After two, yes two, self love sessions with Sookie as the leading lady, I get ready and grab my laptop bag. My stomach feels funny, like there are waves crashing in there, and my chest almost aches in anticipation. My plan is to ask her out on a real date. Let her know, without a doubt, that I want her. All I have to do is make it through my Renaissance Lit class, and I can intercept her walk to the Math building. I decide to stop at Beans and grab and extra espresso on my way. As I stand in line, waiting for my turn with the barista, I hear a melodic laugh coming from the back of the room. There, sitting cross legged on a brown leather couch, sits my goddess. She is glowing and gorgeous and just fucking ethereal and I want to touch her hand or her thigh or her cheek and wink and make her swoon. I just want.

Need.

And then I see her hand reach out for someone else's hand. Wait, I didn't notice she was here with someone. My gaze travels to her left.

My heart clenches violently, and I swallow again and again as the lump in my throat only seems to grow by the second.

She's holding hands with a boy. He has mangy brown hair and a scruffy face like he forgot to shave all week. He's wearing a plaid flannel shirt and corduroys like he's fucking Eddie Veddar from the _Ten_ album or something. His eyes are crinkled and sparkly, like she just confessed her adoration for him, and asked him to marry her and give her twenty babies…

"Sir, excuse me… sir!" The barista calls me back to reality. My face is burning and my jaw is clenched tight. I place my order and throw the cash on the counter. Before I decide to scoop Sookie over my shoulder and punch grunge-guy in the jaw, I hear her voice say my name. It's like melting honey, the way her cadence drips through my veins and calms my stormy pulse. I meet her beautiful eyes, and she smiles widely, letting go of douchebags' sweaty paw, and jumping up to greet me. She looks at me from under her thick lashes and a blush blossoms upon her cheeks. God I love her.

Yeah, you fucking heard me right.

"Eric! Fancy meetin' you here." She drawls and leans up on her toes to kiss my cheek. "I want you to meet a friend of mine. Sam," she gestures to the 90's throwback, "this is Eric, Eric, this is my one of oldest friends, Sam."

Friends.

Hmph.

I still want to break his jaw, but the desire to rip him limb from limb lessened considerably.

"Nice to meet you man," I begin, holding my hand out for a courtesy shake. He glares at me. I notice. But he takes my hand and grips it as hard as he can. I know this because his face turns purple and his veins are protruding. I want to laugh at him, but I smirk instead. The smirk says it all. 'You may want her, mutt, but I have her, so get bent!' Or something like that. Either way, he gets the point and shifts his stupid puppy dog eyes back to Sookie.

"Well, Sook, thanks for the talk and all, but I've got to jet to my next class. I'll tell Amelia you're lookin' for her." The puppy hugs Sookie and _almost_ imperceptivity sniffs her hair. See, I told you he's a mutt. But, it doesn't go unnoticed by me, and I let a low rumble of distaste escape my chest, and his eyes avoid mine. He heard me too. Good.

With the object of my not-so-subtle disdain gone from our line of sight, I take a chance glance at the object of my affection. She seemed to have missed the entire caveman exchange, and is smiling beatifically at me, blush still firmly in place. My desire for her turns from carnal, to reverent, as I take her hand and bring it to my lips.

I lean down to her ear and whisper softly, "Oh fair Sookie, how the moon and the sun and the whole of existence do revolve around your starshine smile, in your dimples are where the angels rest, and make rain from your tears, in your twinkling eyes, the stars charge and prepare to set the night ablaze."

"_God Eric_," she breathes against my cheek. "Who wrote that?" she looks into my eyes, and the last pebble of mortar from my wall turns to dust under her witchy gaze.

"I did. Last night. For you," and I'm vulnerable and I gulp from the nerves, and she gasps, and she presses her lips to mine, and then we're running, hand in hand. Away from Beans Coffee House, away from the campus altogether. And she's laughing and I'm the happiest I've ever been. When our fiery lust turns to burning embers, and our legs collapse under a willow tree, and we tangle up in each other kissing and laughing and in love, I realize I have truly never felt this way. And suddenly all of those poems I read again and again, and memorized and regurgitated to countless girls, women—they all make sense. Love is true poetry. I've never been so inspired to come up with words, words, no words to try and explain the actual beauty of this girl and this love that consumes me. That's what a poet does. They describe something impossible to describe. They compare the incomparable—because, love? Love is suddenly such an all-encompassing, unfathomable, _impossible _word. And all words pale in comparison to the reality of her blush. No petal of any flower could ever come close to describing the exact color of that blush, or the smoothness of her cheek it lays upon. And the ocean of her eyes—no precious gem could ever explain the _exact_ way they glitter and glow-and blue… blue is no longer in my vocabulary. Not when the cerulean sea of her eyes shine and crash upon me, blue is banished!

"I love you, Sookie." It's a breath, a reflex, and I can't take it back, and I won't, because as crazy as this is, it's so fucking true, truer than her beauty and truer than her kindness, and even truer than the fire that she's quite capable of lighting in my soul. She has tears falling silently down her face; they're silent to anyone but me. I hear them cascading and sloshing and they say, "I love you too."

And then her voice whispers what her tears have already told me and we're kissing again. She straddles me under the willow, and my hands explore her torso and she runs her hands through my hair and tugs and I groan under her. I know she feels my hardness pressed up against her heat, and it doesn't deter her from grinding down on my lap.

"Fuck, Sookie," I groan into her ear, and she rides me faster above my jeans and I grip her hips and we find a rhythm with our lips and tongue to match the rhythm of our pelvic dance. I have never felt this way, and I've changed, and it's so good. So _good_.

I release her mouth from mine and say, "look at me, Sookie," and she does and as her eyes meet mine, I explode into white-hot, blinding light, and she moans, long and low and bites down on my shoulder as she rides out her own orgasm. I'm a sticky mess, and she's a gorgeous mess, and I'm pretty sure we just dry-humped each other to orgasm in the middle of Forsyth Park, under a weeping willow. But we're in love. And I've changed, and I've never felt this way, and she is my muse.

And life, right about now, is mother-fucking _poetic._

_**A/N Okay, that ties up part two. Hope you liked it, let me know!**_

_**So, Sookie and Eric are falling fast, but they're not out of the woods just yet. I am hoping to have the next chapter up by July 1**__**st**__**. It will be in both S and Epov. Thanks again to all who take the time to read!**_


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